


Might Have Changed It All

by coloursflyaway



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Choking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Post-Canon, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Córdoba spread out beneath them, Hannibal drives Will insane with one hand around his throat, and the other one around his cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Might Have Changed It All

Fingertips press lightly into the skin of Will’s throat, and he cranes his neck a little more, imagines them leaving prints, invisible marks on top of dark red ones. Marks that won’t fade, even when the bruises do.  
The hand pulls him back against a solid body, and Will lets out a sound that is groan and gasp and moan and plea all in once; if it’s a punishment or a reward when Hannibal speeds up his strokes, he cannot say.

Below them, Córdoba is spread out for what seems like their pleasure alone, and Hannibal behind him twists his hand just below the head of Will’s cock, making the bright lights blur. The pleasure that shoots through his body is sweet and yet nothing but torture; they have been in this position for what feels like hours, Hannibal stroking his cock but never letting him come, Will sometimes catching unfamiliar reflections in the glass.  
Both of them are wearing new faces, Will’s slightly sharper and Hannibal’s soft in places that seemed to have been carved out of steel and marble before, but while Will would recognise the other anywhere, no matter whose face he wore, he has problems with his own features sometimes, can’t get the person he was before and this new man to feel the same.

Again, Hannibal twists his hand, and it makes Will gasp loudly, only that sucking air back into his lungs is harder now when the other’s grip won’t loosen. And it’s a horrible, destructive thing, but the feeling makes Will’s cock twitch.  
It’s a sensation he knows too well by now, the same as when he trails the tip of a knife down from Hannibal’s collar bone to his hip, the same as when he lets the other push the barrel of a gun between his teeth, sucks on the metal until his lips are numb. Perhaps it could be a struggle for power, but it isn’t, or isn’t just that – it’s a display of trust, a reaffirmation of the silent promise they gave each other.  
Hannibal could kill him, and yet he willingly puts his life in the other’s hands.

Will pushes back against Hannibal, feeling hard muscle and hidden strength, and the other tightens the grip of both his hands, the one around his cock and the one around his throat. Will’s throat contracts as he swallows, his eyes flutter shut and he just feels.  
Feels Hannibal’s chest rising and falling with his breaths, feels the muscles of his hand twitch just slightly, the slight callouses on his fingers which catch on the sensitive spot just below the head of Will’s cock. Feels the cold air and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him, getting stronger with every stroke of the older man’s hand.

Hannibal’s teeth graze over his earlobe, a small hint of pain to go along with the pleasure, and Will gasps, feels precome dribble down his shaft, slicking up Hannibal’s hand when it slides over his cock again. There are lips brushing over his jaw, barely there and yet feeling like they are leaving marks; Hannibal moves the hand he has wrapped around Will’s throat just a little, digs his fingers into his flesh even harder, the pressure painful and yet so good.  
Tomorrow, there will be bruises, and Will’s mind blanks out at the thought. Hannibal has scratches all the way down his back, and Will wants to bear his marks like a collar around his neck, weighing him down and elating him at the same time.

Without thinking, Will cranes his neck, gives Hannibal permission to do his worst – always, always his worst, always Will’s best – and the older man’s lips curl upwards, still pressed against Will’s skin.  
“More?”, he asks, and hidden in that word are a million stories, a million different ways for this to end.  
“Yes.”  
Hannibal doesn’t answer, just squeezes the head of his cock, rubs his thumb across the slit in the way he knows drives Will insane. His hand is gentle, unlike the one around Will’s neck and it might be the contrast between the two which is worst.

As if he could read his mind, Hannibal lets go of his cock, makes Will whine at the back of his throat, until the sound turns into a helpless moan when warm fingertips brush over his shaft, teasing little strokes which are not meant to pleasure, just to tease.  
He could beg, and he would get what he is asking for, but Will just bites his lips, refuses to give in.  
The fingers move up to the head of his cock, circle it and give Will a few, quick strokes, making him swallow back frustrated sobs. It’s too much and not enough at the same time; when he manages to peel his eyes open, he can make out Hannibal’s form, his smile hidden against Will’s throat.

Pushing back against Hannibal, he can feel the other’s cock just as hard as his, hot even through the layers of clothes; the other tightens his hands, both of them, making it oh so hard to breathe and yet making Will gasp.  
It is subtle, because it's gradual, but he is starting to feel the lack of oxygen. There are sparks dancing at the edge of his vision, his thoughts don’t seem to have either an end or a beginning, because he cannot focus on either anymore, his chest is trying to rise and yet cannot suck in the air it needs.  
There is pain, too, but pain is something Will has gotten so used to in those past months, those past years that he hardly notices it anymore, thinks of it not as a bother, but just another sensation. A familiar one, always, sometimes even a soothing one.

So Will is unfazed when the ache behind his eyeballs grows stronger, when his lungs start burning, just arches into Hannibal’s grip, taking the friction he needs. The other’s fingernails scratch across the skin just below the head of his cock, making Will see stars.  
He might cry out the other’s name with what little air he has left in his lungs, and somehow, it’s terribly fitting – if this was real, if he was about to die, the last word on his lips would be Hannibal’s name.

For a moment, Will allows himself to consider it –Hannibal above him, his fingernails leaving bloody crescents on his skin, his breaths going shallow until they stop, _surrendering_ – and maybe it is tempting, maybe it is not.

Hannibal seems to think he is too distracted, even if it is by the older man and no one else, because he picks up his pace, strokes Will’s cock hard and fast, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain. The friction would be alone to make him breathless, but Hannibal’s hand around his neck squeezes harder, all but crushes his windpipe and Will wishes he could scream.  
His balls draw up, ready to spill their seed, when Hannibal brings him to the edge of orgasm for what feels like the hundredth time this night, with Córdoba still spread out below them, and Will is light-headed with lust and the lack of air, his nerves having trouble to distinguish between pleasure and pain, mixing everything up to create something even more intoxicating.

There will be a collar of bruises around his neck tomorrow and yet it doesn’t seem like enough; Hannibal won’t kill him but Will knows that he would let him if he tried.

He’s a second away from orgasm, if even, and Hannibal stills his hand, doesn’t pull it away, places a sweet kiss on the skin just above his own fingers digging into Will’s neck.  
“Do you want more?”, he asks, doesn’t specify what he means, but Will doesn’t need to know; he knows the answer wouldn’t change.  
“Yes”, he answers, and pushes back against Hannibal. “Please.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you are feeling like a bit more (and more violent) Hannigram choking, you might enjoy this: [X](https://archiveofourown.org/works/802300)


End file.
